The Change of Eustace Scrubb
by lovenarnia
Summary: As witnessed by his parents, schoolmates, relatives, teachers, and others. The Pevensies are almost universally thought responsible for the remarkable change.
1. As Witnessed by His Mother

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harold nor Alberta Scrubb, and I am glad of it. Nor do I own any other characters, and I am **_**not**_** glad of it.**

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><p>AN: Lest you hate me for always following "Eustace" with "Clarence," let me remind you that "his parents called him Eustace Clarence." This is all part of getting inside Alberta's (admittedly, annoying) head.

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><p>Alberta Scrubb was <em>not<em> looking forward to having her niece and nephew stay with them during the holidays. For one thing, those Pevensies—all four of them—were such bullies to her darling Eustace Clarence.

Eustace Clarence was a delicate child, small for his age but of extraordinary intelligence. Too much exertion or sun was not good for him, and sea air always made him sick. The Pevensies, by contrast, were loud and boisterous. They never missed a chance to humiliate poor Eustace Clarence or blame him for their wicked pranks. The poor child was so sensitive, but the Pevensies refused to see this.

It never ceased to amaze Alberta that Helen and Harold had grown up in the same household, yet had such different views on child-rearing. Helen actually _spanked_ her children, and had since they were very young. This had undoubtedly made them the way they were—having to lean on God for the confidence to face life. Her Eustace Clarence had never been spanked, and he was full of self-confidence.

Another of their weaknesses, Alberta reflected as she chopped vegetables for the soup, was that those Pevensies never challenged authority. This made them weak and spineless members of a weak and spineless society. Eustace Clarence, she thought with satisfaction, had been taught to question authority, and she could see great things for him in a brilliant political career.

In short, Edmund and Lucy Pevensie were not at all the sort of children she liked, and, had they not been related, she would have nothing to do with them.

Yet here they were, walking up to the door with their boxes in their arms and their bags slung over their shoulders. (Rather, _Edmund_ had boxes in his arms and bags over his shoulder; Lucy carried a basket and a small bag. Treating girls as easily breakable was degrading them, according to Alberta—yet another reason she did not like the Pevensies.)

As they neared the house, she clearly heard Edmund say, "At least you don't have to share a room with Useless. Be thankful, Lu, and do buck up. We're in this together. You won't be alone, I promise." (Being characteristically Alberta, she did not notice the love and respect with which he regarded his sister. Instead she only noticed that Edmund had called her angel names!)

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><p>The trouble began almost immediately. Edmund gravely shook her hand, which was all right in its own way, but Lucy gave her a tentative hug. <em>Mff<em>, sniffed Alberta, _these children have no confidence whatsoever._ Just as Lucy pulled away, she felt a hand thrust into her pocket. She reached in and pulled out—a half-dead frog. Lucy looked appalled and Edmund looked angry, both gasping out, "_Eustace_!"

The Pevensies could act admirably, Alberta decided even in her rage. Here she _knew _Lucy had deposited that frog there, but from the shocked look on said girl's face she had never seen it before. Edmund was glaring at Eustace Clarence, who, being the sensitive boy that he was, burst into tears.

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><p>Things went on this way for about a week—those wretched Pevensies playing all sorts of wretched pranks (stealing sweets, tracking in mud, and even leaving lights on during a black-out) and blaming them on Eustace Clarence.<p>

That Saturday morning, the pranks were worse than ever. But after 9 o'clock, there were no more.

At lunch, Alberta chided Edmund about one of the pranks, and Eustace Clarence spoke up. "Sorry, Mum, I did that."

About five things in this simple statement astonished Alberta: (1) That he would say he was sorry (this being the first time in his life that such a word had ever come out of his mouth); (2) That he would call her that degrading appellative—Mum—instead of "Alberta;" (3) That he would voluntarily say that he did it when earlier he had denied it; (4) That he would say it in such a disgusting humble way; and (5) That it came so easily to him to say it at all.

After she recovered from her surprise, she snapped out the first thing that came to mind. "Eustace Clarence, call me Alberta!"

Her son looked up from his soup with a truly hurt look in his eyes. "Oh, sorry, Mum," came the reply. "I didn't think."

At this, Edmund unceremoniously choked on his (vegetable) soup and then guffawed. Though Lucy attempted to stop him, he only laughed harder until she joined him.

Then the unthinkable, the impossible, happened—Eustace began to laugh _with_ them! "Sorry, Mu—Alberta," Eustace managed to gasp out, "but it's just so…" He couldn't finish his sentence.

"So strange," Lucy finished for him, amid gasps of her own. "Here he's been calling you Mum for weeks without your knowledge, and—" She laid her head down on the table and laughed hysterically into her napkin.

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><p>In punishment for this wild outburst (and, more importantly, for influencing her darling in their repulsive ways), Alberta confined them to their rooms for a week, putting Edmund in Lucy's small, upstairs bedroom to keep him separate from Eustace.<p>

But much to her surprise and dismay, while Eustace was eating lunch (still quarantined from his cousins), she found a small stack of books in his room—a volume of Sherlock Holmes and a book of fairy tales. Under his mattress she found a small assignment book filled with Eustace's own handwriting about dragons and enchantments, magicians and talking mice, ships and winds and hurricanes, sea serpents and spells to make the unseen seen. The margins were full of tiny sketches, completed in obvious haste, of fantastic creatures, towns, bells, maps, and boats.

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><p>AN: If any of you have any story suggestions or ways to make it better, please PM me or review!


	2. As Witnessed by THEM

**Disclaimer: This is not mine; it belongs to C.S. Lewis and anyone who can legally claim it.**

This story is told from the perspective of Them, more specifically, of one Edith Winterblott.

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><p>It was a strange thing: we were in complete control of the entire school. Then Eustace Clarence Scrubb came waltzing in and disrupted the entire operation.<p>

He was such a whiner! Whining about this, that, and everything. The school suppers are horrid. (They were, but that's not the point.) The rooms are too hot. I want a window open. The uniforms are stiff. (They were, but that's not the point, either.) I don't eat meat; take it off my sandwich. No, I don't want just margarine on the sandwich. What do you mean I have to?

Normally, we could show a new kid "who's boss" in a matter of days. Not that whining brat called Scrubb. _He _was the exception to every known rule, whether written or unwritten.

It was a wonderful day when we finally discovered that he'd do anything if he could just be convinced that it benefited him.

We were also thrilled to discover that he was no good at a fistfight.

So, between those two things, we had Scrubb well in hand after a few weeks. He told us everything we needed to know if we threatened to hit him. He told the others that if they didn't submit to us, they would be hurt.

He was, in a way, quite a good little attendant.

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><p>Then he went home for the hols.<p>

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><p>When he returned, he was just as much a problem as when he first came. Except this time, no amount of beatings up or threatening would make him help us. He stood up to Carter about the rabbit, kept the secret about Spivvins—and no amount of torture would make him talk—and actually refused to carry a challenge to a terrified Grayson Minor.<p>

Adela Pennyfather summed it up quite well: "Someone's got hold of that Scrubb kid. He's quite unmanageable this term. We shall have to attend to _him_ next."

Then, two weeks into the term, and as yet unattended to, Scrubb suddenly made the whole operation come to a screeching halt.

That day, Cholmondely Major, "Spotty" Sorner, Garrett Major and Garrett Minor, Bannister, and myself were attending to Pole, and she ran off behind the gym. The next thing we knew, she and Scrubb were running down the hill at us, with some other boy, all wielding swords and riding crops. The school wall had fallen down, and an enormous lion lay in the gap.

Then we ran and got the Head, but there was such a fuss that Scrubb and Pole escaped notice. The police were called in, and there was a large investigation. That's how I got expelled.

And it's all the fault of that dreadful Eustace Scrubb.

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><p>AN: Because, as you must realize, not everyone _liked_ the change of Eustace Scrubb.


	3. As Witnessed by His Father

**I'm back, after a hiatus of almost a year! Although updates will be few and far between, I hope they will be worth the wait.**

**Disclaimer: I own Narnia as much as I own the continent I live on…**

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><p>Most people think I don't mind the change that has come over my son. They seem to think that Alberta is the only one upset, the only one confused.<p>

However, this is not the case. I used to be so proud of Eustace Clarence. He was such a bright child, with a good future ahead of him. Unlike my sister Helen's children, he was an independent thinker, never fitting into society's mold. I was only mildly pleased to hear that Edmund and Lucy were coming to stay the summer.

The first few days were fairly uneventful, but for the two Pevensies blaming Eustace Clarence for some harmless pranks. He, being a delicate child, was rather distressed by this.

Just this evening, however, my son met me at the door with a smile. "Hey, Dad," he said. "How's the job?"

"Harold," I corrected him, almost sharply. "And the job is fine."

His face fell. "Harold, right. Sorry."

Now, if there was anything we tried to raise Eustace Clarence to avoid, it was making apologies. Yet here he was, apologizing profusely with practiced ease. He tripped a little over Edmund's feet on the way to the table. "Sorry, old chap," he muttered.

"How many times must I tell you to _speak clearly_, Eustace Clarence?" Alberta corrected him, a slight edge to her voice as she served the carrots.

Unabashed, Eustace raised his voice and looked straight at Edmund. "Sorry, old chap." This time he did not mumble.

That night, Alberta told me that one moment, she had sent him up to call his cousins for dinner, and the next moment, all three came down the stairs, "panting wildly, as if bewitched."

"I've had nothing but trouble with that boy's manners ever since," she confided. "What do you think they did to him?"

I didn't answer right away. A distinct creak of the floorboard outside stole my thoughts. A low squeak of the stair tread. Another creak and another squeak. Two people were climbing the stairs outside my door. A door groaned above my head, and two sets of slippered feet moved across the floor.

I slipped out, motioning to my wife to remain still. Once outside Lucy's attic room, I put my ear to the door and listened.

"Do you think anyone will believe me?" _Eustace Clarence._

"I don't know." _Lucy, doubtful._ "We only told the professor. I don't think anyone else would have known what to say."

"I agree." _Edmund._ "I'd say it's best to keep quiet for right now. _Don't _tell your parents."

Eustace laughed. "They'd hardly understand magic."

"Better to tell them you've had a religious experience, if they ask," Edmund murmured. "It's really the only thing that answers everything."

"Except the scars," Lucy put in, "but you don't have any. Ed's right. After all, meeting Aslan can only be described as a religious experience."

"You two had it good," Eustace Clarence grumbled. "Your parents approved of your 'religious experiences.' Mine will have conniptions. My, but I feel dragonish at the moment."

Lucy giggled. Edmund huffed.

Perhaps "conniptions" was a good description of what I was feeling right now, listening to my boy talking about religion and magic and "feeling dragonish".

No, Alberta is not the only one upset with Eustace Clarence's change. I, too, have lost my brilliant son to a commonplace child.

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><p><strong>AN Hope you liked it! I've never seen a disapproving-Harold fic, have you? **


	4. As Witnessed by Jill Pole

**A.N: I'm back! I'm aware that it's been a long time since I posted here, so hopefully this chapter will flow with the rest of the story.**

**Disclaimer: If I were C.S. Lewis, I wouldn't have put Bacchus in ****_Prince Caspian_****. Since he is, I obviously am not C.S. Lewis, and do not own the Chronicles of Narnia or any person or location appearing in that work.**

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><p>They always left me alone, for the most part. I wasn't strong emotionally, so being left alone didn't mean standing up to Them. It meant running and dodging and ducking into old passageways and holes in the shrubbery.<p>

The boys never sought me out; I was far too plain for that. I reminded myself of Jane Eyre: my features were irregular, and I was small.

But occasionally a boy would torment me-take, for example, one Eustce Clarence Scrubb. He believed himself to be a genius, but all he ever accomplished was making himself look like an ass. Never without that dreadful green book in which he wrote down all his marks, he made life hellish for all those whom They overlooked.

Once Spivvins offered him a peppermint as a bribe to go away, but he ranted and raved about how much he "hated peppermints, and what was he trying to do, kill him?" I never understood the logic behind that, but when a boy takes Plumtree's Vitaminized Nerve Food (made with distilled water, of course), is it logical to expect him to express himself logically?

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><p>It was the term after the hols, my first full year at Experiment House. Of all the silly names to call a place! It reminded me of a zoo my father told me of, where the monkeys were kept in the "Primate House."<p>

Anyway, back to my story.

I was walking through the halls on my way to my first class, simply minding my own business, when...

"Stop right there, church mouse!" _Edith Winterblott, that little scum!_

I turned around. There she stood, that monstrous tattle-tale, with her arms akimbo. Behind her, They had congregated. I turned and fled.

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><p>When one is constantly harrassed by Them (ungrammatical, I know), one gets to be an expert at running and hiding. I had discovered a place behind the gym that no one else knew about-it was right by the greenhouses and the wall that separated Experiment House from the wild, untamed moor. So thither I went, ducking through tiny spaces. My small frame served me well in such times.<p>

And there, in the little space between the gym and the shrubbery, I threw myself on the ground and had a good cry.

And then, halfway through it, Eustace Scrubb came whistling 'round the gym corner and very nearly fell over me.

"Can't you look where you're going?" said I. You really can't blame me-he has eyes, after all.

"All right," said he, sounding miffed, "you needn't start -" Suddenly he stopped and looked at me. "I say, Pole," he began, much gentler this time, "what's up?"

I was not about to start crying again in front of him. Only babies cry. So I made a face and said nothing at all.

He stuffed his hands even farther, if possible, into his pockets. "It's Them, I suppose - as usual."

I nodded. He sighed.

"Now, look here," he said, sounding for all the world like someone beginning a lecture, "there's no good us all -"

No doubt he meant well, expecially considering what happened afterward, but he had no business interrupting me in the middle of a good cry. So I flew into a temper and gave him a piece of my mind. I've no idea just what I said, but it certainly sounded nasty, even to my addled mind.

And he made excuses and I shot them down, and before I knew it, he pulled his hand out of his pocket-and offered me a peppermint!

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><p>One of the Professors who came to E.H. after the whole lion affair, I believe, has written a story about what happened next. He took a great many licenses with the story-I was a great deal nastier than he'd have you believe.<p>

But Scrubb told the story, and I could only prevail upon the Professor to put in some of the nasty things I said. And as for Scrubb-well, he didn't really tell the truth. He took far too much of the blame, and gave me far too much credit.

But that's Scrubb.


	5. As Witnessed by His Uncle

**Disclaimer: Not C.S. Lewis. Not a genius. There, I've said it.**

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><p>Eustace came to our house for the first time when he was two years old. Harold and Alberta brought him over, since they were going to go to a moving picture. He tore apart the house and talked back to my wife.<p>

The next time Eustace came to our house was when he was seven, and his mother's temperament showed plainly: he was stuck-up and snobbish. And his mother! his mother was pleased with him. I hate to say it about my own sister, but there it is.

But the transformation of Eustace didn't take place until fashions changed after the war. Alberta got her hands on a fashion magazine. Suddenly their windows were always open, their beds had very few clothes on them, their meals consisted of entirely vegetables, and they drank only tea, coffee, and water. And she fed Eustace Plumtree's Vitaminized Nerve Food to make up for the protein that was lacking in his diet.

I was sorry when I had to send my children to the Scrubb's house while my wife and I toured America.

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><p>The third time Eustace came to our house, he was quiet, respectful, and polite. He bowed to me and kissed Helen's hand. He was completely unrecognizeable.<p>

Edmund had told me that Eustace had changed, but I told him I'd have to see it to believe it. So Eustace prevailed upon his parents to let him come and, thus, here he was. I was seeing it, but I remained incredulous. Well, not exactly incredulous; I believed him, but found it all rather strange.

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><p>I was passing through the hall outside the boy's bedroom when I heard the children all congregated there. Peter had come home for a weekend, and somehow his visit coincided with Eustace's visit. (I attributed that amazing coincidence to Edmund.)<p>

They were, by the sounds of it, all sitting on Edmund's bed (it had noisy box springs). Giggles and muffled shrieks emanated from under the closed door, and, to my amazement, it sounded like Peter was the one shrieking. Edmund's low murmur sounded amused, and Eustace's high, whiney pitch was just as high, but no longer annoying.

"And, on, Peter! It was so wonderful!" _Eustace, saying something is wonderful! I would never have thought it._ "So bright and so happy, and the music sounded like a rainbow of colors!"

"Rapunzel's Island had a purple smell," Lucy put in. (At least, I believe it was Rapunzel.)

"I felt as if I was sailing in a painting!" _Eustace is waxing lyrical. What wonder will be next!_

"You were."

"Oh, Ed, do stop being so...so...infuriating!" Lucy giggled.

"What, pray tell, is a purple smell?"

"Well, Peter, it's hard to explain. I suppose it's a dreamy sort of...damp, dusky, and velvety smell that just rolls off your tongue in a wonderful taste."

"Ah."

"Yes, that was it. Caspar smelled it too."

"I thought you said it was rot!"

And Eustace burst out laughing. It was such a glorious sound that I knew Alberta would be fit to be tied. Somehow, I didn't really mind.


	6. As Witnessed by Susan

**Disclaimer: If I were C.S. Lewis, would I really be on FFN?**

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><p>When Mum and Dad told me where they were sending Edmund and Lucy while they toured America, I immediately thought they'd gone completely off their rocker. Goodness, I'd skip a dozen trips to America in a heartbeat if going meant that my children would be essentially locked up in a madhouse for the duration.<p>

But no: Mum said that they'd be all right. Mum and Dad hadn't had a real vacation for years, and it would be a chance for me to travel. I was the pretty one of the family, she said, which, knowing what I would look like as a woman, I couldn't deny. There, she said. That settled it. I must travel, and, since I was no good at school, this was the perfect opportunity. But to leave them in that horrid...place, I thought, was rather barbaric at best.

My one and only cousin, you see, was one of those people who Edmund summed up perfectly as "simply beastly." Where we come from, of course, that is understood as a compliment. In England, however, it is understood as an insult, and Edmund meant it in a thoroughly English way. I didn't like to agree with him, since Eustace was my cousin and all, but there was no other way to describe him.

His parents were not much better. They were teetotalers, which I could respect. They were vegetarians, which really wasn't so bad, once one got accustomed to the absence of mutton. They also had outlandish notions, which had made Eustace into the pratting monster he was. For that I would never forgive them.

Edmund and Lucy took the news very well. Of course, Mum and Dad didn't hear Edmund screaming into his pillow. They also didn't see Lucy deliberately tack a picture of the Scrubbs to a piece of scrap lumber and proceed to throw Peter's pocketknife at it until the picture hung in shreds.

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><p>After the tour, we all went to pick Lucy and Edmund up from the Scrubbs' house. Eustace begged to come along.<p>

Yes, he begged. He got down on his knees, clasped his hands before him, and burst into tears, begging us not to leave him here in (and I quote here) "this luny bin."

Edmund looked sideways at Dad and grinned. Lucy reached out the window and patted Eustace's head. "They've just got back, dear, and need their rest. We're dreadfully sorry, of course, but it simply can't be helped. You'll just have to come later."

Whereupon Eustace stood up, stopped blubbing, and squared his shoulders. "Well, I suppose I can last for a while. Do write me, though. It'll be dreadful without you both."

This was entirely too much. I'd never heard of Eustace's twin, but now I was convinced that somehow he had been rescued from his orphanage. It was the only plausible explanation, unless...No. No! Eustace, in Narnia?

I pitied the poor Beasts.


	7. As Witnessed by His Victims

**Disclaimer: This does not belong to me, yada yada yada.**

**A/N: This is rather drabble-esque. I apologize to those of you who wanted a longer chapter.**

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><p>Since you ask, you much understand that Eustace Scrubb was a terror. All my relatives said so. They had all been pursued by him at one time or another during the course of their lives, and my mother especially looked forward to him leaving at the end of the hols to go back to school.<p>

He delighted in chasing us, for some odd reason. He pursued his cousins with much the same wicked glee. But it was different for us.

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><p>He still likes to watch us, but he's changed, somehow. Where formerly he would worry us and plague us half to death, he now merely watches us. I think it's his cousin's influence. I'd heard stories of Edmund being cruel to my relatives before he went Away, but I've heard nary a complaint since he got Back.<p>

Perhaps he shared his experience with Eustace. I shouldn't doubt it.

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><p>I must say, it's nice to have some peace and quiet back. We're no longer chased, no longer impaled, no longer mounted on sheets of posterboard in his room.<p>

At last, it's nice to be a butterfly in the Scrubb's garden.


	8. As Witnessed by Peter

**Disclaimer: Lewis owns the Chronicles, if you weren't already aware of that.**

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><p>Why my parents decided that Edmund and Lucy weren't capable of running a household by themselves for two months I will never know. To be sure, I would be a bit reticent myself if it were only Edmund that would be left home (he can't cook a decent meal to save his life). But Lucy would be there too, and she was a <em>girl<em>. Girls can cook, or at least Lucy could.

Of course, my parents looked at Edmund and Lucy and saw a thirteen-year-old and an almost-twelve-year-old. They certainly wouldn't be expected to keep a household afloat. I knew better, of course. If those two could keep over twenty thousand square feet of castle going for fifteen years, two months in a tiny house would be no problem.

But no. They were to be packed up and shipped off to the Scrubbs' house for the duration. Digory (The Professor really, but we always forgot to call him that) would gladly have taken them, but he had stumbled upon rough times and could only house me while I studied for my exams.

My siblings and I had decided long ago that the only thing which could possibly be worse than staying with the Scrubbs would be actually _being_ a Scrubb. Not even Calormenes intent on shedding the blood of every male, down to the babe that was born yesterday, could be that bad.

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><p>I had determined that I would call them every week to see how they were getting along. The first two weeks' calls were not encouraging.<p>

"How are things going?" I asked the first week.

"Oh, no, not at all," Lucy replied cheerfully.

"What, are they listening?"

"Of course, Peter."

I sighed. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, Edmund's here." I smiled.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Oh, let me see. Yes, I'd love to see you."

I had to chuckle. Trust Lucy to back me into a corner. "I'm afraid that won't work out."

"Oh. Well then. Let me get Edmund for you."

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><p>The second week was no better. This time Edmund answered.<p>

"Hallo!"

"Hallo yourself, Ed. How is your sanity holding up?"

"Oh, we're nearing the end of it, but if we use it sparingly, it should last."

"Ah. And how is Eustace?"

"It's useless."

Useless, you see, was our pet name for our cousin.

"I'm sorry to hear that. How's Lucy?"

"Oh, she's great. Do you remember when Ash came to visit? She's like that."

Ash was Edmund's code word for Rabadash. And Lucy had NOT enjoyed his visit one bit. It had actually been frightening.

"Well, never forget: Once a King, always a King. Keep up your spirits."

"Oh, yes, of course. I've never forgotten. Eustace keeps reminding me."

"What? Has he found out about Narnia?"

"Lucy and I have talked about it, but only with each other."

"So he eavesdropped."

"That's about it, Peter."

Wonderful.

"Has it been really dreadful?"

"Oh, of course. Above everything I could ever have imagined." This was said in an impossibly excited tone.

"Let me guess - Alberta's in the kitchen."

"How do you do that? You've hit the nail on the head, Pete!"

Sure enough, Aunt Alberta was saying, "Are you finished, _Edmund_?" She spat his name out as if it were poison.

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><p>The third week I called, Alberta answered the phone. I made small talk for a minute or two, then asked to speak to Edmund or Lucy.<p>

Alberta covered the reciever with her hand, but I could still hear.

"Eustace Clarence, tell your cousins Peter is on the phone."

Eustace Clarence groused a good bit about it, but went upstairs.

There was a minute of silence in the house and I said, "Hello?"

Alberta, still holding the receiver, called, "Are you coming?"

And then...there was a rush of feet down the stairs and a burst of raucous talking and Edmund took the phone and gasped out, "Oh, Peter!"

Had he hurt himself? He was gasping and crying and sounded out of breath.

"I expect you'll want to talk to Eustace," he said.

"No!" I said. "I want to talk to you!"

But he had already handed off the phone and Eustace was on the other end of the line. He breathed heavily into my ear and said, "Hullo." I almost didn't recognize the voice. "_Magnificent_ to talk to you, by the way."

Magnificent, eh? "You too, Eustace."

"Edmund's _Just_ being himself. You needn't worry about him. Lu's doing a _Valiant_ job with him."

It wasn't possible...just wasn't possible. I hazarded a guess. "Have you heard about Susan?"

"Break it to me _Gently_, cousin."

It was true. It couldn't be true. He'd gone to Narnia. He couldn't have gone to Narnia. He had. I felt as if I were drowning.

"How long has it been since I was there?"

"Three years," he replied. "Get this: _it's__ been pretty good._ The _Caspian _Sea _is still King_ of all inland seas, did you know that? Even though it's _not a giant_ in terms of _invasion_ on the surrounding land, it's been at the same level _for two years_. _Color, man! _I've _never_ seen _a problem_ _with _it with the _Caspian_ Sea."

I had been writing down the words he emphasized, and got: "It's been pretty good. Caspian is still King. Not a giant invasion for two years. Calormen never a problem with Caspian."

"Go on," I said.

"I think Ed will just send you a letter," he said.

"I'll look for it," I replied. For now, it was enough to know that my beloved country was all right.

But that the information would come through Eustace...I knew that Aslan changed those He loved, but I had never considered Eustace a likely candidate.


	9. As Witnessed by Himself

**Don't own anything. It all belongs to the inimitable C.S. Lewis.**

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><p>I'm not anything special, so don't listen to the others when they say I am. Especially jill. Don't listen to Jill. She's not a crybaby anymore, but she gives me far too much credit and takes far too much of the blame. So don't listen to her.<p>

I suppose I'd best start at the beginning, hadn't I? Well, you see, it all started when the Pevensies came to stay the hols.

I was a brat; there's no denying it. But Reep and Caspian were good sports, even though I was dreadful. I miss them so much.

I'm not making much sense, am I? Shouldn't wonder if I'm not. But one doesn't go to Narnia a brat and come back a changed man because of something he did.

It's all because of Aslan.

It hurt when he dug his claws into my skin and tore it off, layer by layer. It would've hurt even more if he'd left it on.

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><p>Mum doesn't understand. Dad doesn't, either, I'm afraid. But Ed and Lucy do, and that is enough. He told me that I wasn't as bad as he was, the first time: I was an ass, but he was traitor. Sometimes I think an ass is worse, because I didn't even think that I was being one. At least if you're a traitor, you know.<p>

* * *

><p>If my disjointed mutterings don't make sense to you, dear diary, know that it's not your fault. Sometimes I don't understand myself, either. It's so strange to be normal, you see. To be forgiven. To be loved for who I am, not what I do or what I will become.<p> 


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